


Quiet

by Deriliarch



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Could be read as Sirius/Remus whichever works for you, Gen, Second War with Voldemort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-22 06:32:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14302899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deriliarch/pseuds/Deriliarch
Summary: Sirius can't stand being in Grimmauld Place--when he can convince Remus, they go out together. It's not exactly a night on the town.





	Quiet

When Sirius just gets so damn tired of the hiding and hearing about the fighting, when he can convince Remus to take him outside–-and he does, you know he does–-Sirius becomes Padfoot and Remus bundles up. Bulky sweater, patchy, anonymous coat to disguise his shape, threadbare hat to his eyebrows, scarf to his nose, wand in his pocket. He could do magic, a don’t-see-me spell, but most days, he’s tired too, and there’s unlikely to be Death Eaters where they go.

Usually, they play at walking along the slate gray river, or find a field Padfoot can sniff around in while Remus sits in the loam at the edge of the wood and pretends to read his book. But there are days when they head to the city, speak to the mannequins, and pass through the necessary checkpoints with the help of an inside Order member and a few breezy, “he’s a therapy dog”’s. They go up the stairs in silence, but Padfoot keeps bumping his leg, he walks so close, and Remus can’t keep his hand from threading through his thick ruff.

Remus nods hello to familiar nurses and staff and they make it back to the long term wards. The permanent wards. They sit down and wrestle with doing them justice and meeting their wandering eyes and very, very, very much not wanting to look at what their school friends have become. Who they were made into. Sometimes Remus reads to Frank and Alice out loud, but most days, he stares in the general proximity of their knees while Padfoot sits patiently by their beds and allows them to stroke his fur and poke at his ears in vague bemusement. Alice’s quick wit and temper are gone, her dark eyes unfocused and Frank’s pleasant joviality have wilted into a hollow, childlike confusion.

They always bid a polite farewell, they always leave a few sticks of gum, they always thank the nurses. 

They’re always very quiet when they get home.


End file.
